A Most Unconventional Childhood
by Cececat
Summary: What if Columbia's life before the castle wasn't a dreary as some think? When Mrs. Trent finds out that Mr. Trent is secretly a crossdresser, she kicks him out. His daughter Laura, on the other hand, sees this as a chance to escape her overprotective mother. Then the go on an adventure through the side of society most people don't see. (Please Read & Review!)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_**

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 **A/N: So... I'm starting a new story. Hopefully it's at least somewhat readable and (maybe) good enough to be reviewed.**

 **This takes place in the 1950s. Yes, I know that the movie takes place in the 1970s. But after watching a filmed version of the play (and re-watching the) I couldn't help but think it would make more sense in the 50s. Eddie's a '50s Greaser, Brad & Janet are THE stereotypical innocent '50s couple... the only stuff that makes the movie not take place in the 1950s are the Richard Nixon thing and the vaguely '60s-style clothes. Only stuff in the (alien!) castle isn't very 1950s-style. **

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I was born in '39, soon after my father went off to fight in the war. He came back only a few years later, with all sortsa medals and things sayin' how brave he was. Ma was very proud of this. But she wasn't so proud when she found Papa all dressed up in one of her sweaters a coupla years later.

It was about midnight. My little sister Nell and I couldn't help but wake up when we heard them shouting. We were supposed to be sleeping. I was 14 and she only seven, you see. But with them shouting not even the _neighbors_ could sleep (or so it seemed).

He's been working late that night, he said. That happened a lot. Though now Ma knew it wasn't ever true. Apparently he'd gone out to a bar all dressed up in

" _LEAVE_ , Davis. You aren't my husband anymore," she tells him.

Years later I could still hear it in my mind. Her last words to him. They never got a divorce written up all proper-like since she never wanted to look at him again.

It was soon after she said those awful words that Nell began to cry and they noticed us. Papa wouldn't look any of us in the eye, and he still wore one of Ma's outfits. It didn't look bad on him, though. Or wrong. But Ma was really upset at him.

"I will leave then," Papa said quietly

Then, he left the house. I quickly followed… as did little Nell.

"Can I go with you?" the poor thing asked, cryin' still.

But I knew she couldn't follow me. Something awful might happen and she needed to go to school for a while longer. As I kneeled down beside her she grabbed onto the sweater I wore. As if she hoped that such a thing could keep me from leaving her and Ma!

"Shh, Nell. It'll be better for you here. Stay with Ma for now."

"Will you come get me one day?" she asked, still clutching onto my sweater.

"Of course," I promised.

Then, she let go of my sweater and I got into Papa's old car.

Sadly I never got the chance t' see my dear little sister again. She died when she was nine of something awful that went 'round the school. Though at least I still have a picture of her. Her face is solemn and pale, but at least I'll always remember dear little Nell.

"Where are we goin'?" I asked.

Still not looking me in the eye, he didn't say a word. We drove and drove for a while. Finally, he _did_ speak.

"Why did you choose to follow me, Laura?" he asked wearily.

"Ma is always shouting at us, but you don't. And I wanted to make sure you aren't sad or alone now that Mama made you leave. Speaking of which, where will we go now?"

As far as I knew he didn't have friends or close acquaintances. Later, I realized how very wrong I was about that…

"Oh, I think Vicky will help us."

"Who?"

He smiled. "You'll see."

For what seemed like hours, but probably wasn't, we drove. After _ages_ we finally reached a shady looking area of a town I'd never been to. It frightened me, so I clung close to Papa once we got out of the car. It was about then that the fact that my father was wearing brunette wig styled like my mother's hair registered in my mind. Not to mention the fact that he wore clothes that technically belonged to her…

Once we entered a nearby building, however, I couldn't think about such things. No, I was to busy gaping at all the strangeness that surrounded me.

We were in some sort of cabaret. A woman wearing far too much makeup and a garishly glittery outfit was standing on a stage serenading the crowd with a song.

"That's queen on the stage is Vicky," Papa whispered. "She's a very different person. That is, different from anything you've seen. Don't be scared or anything. She's really nice once you see past all the glitter and lipstick."

I nodded, not really hearing what he said.

Before, I'd never seen that side of my father. Usually he wore a business suit and never really said anything. But at that strange cabaret he fit in almost too well. I really liked that. The people seemed very nice, and many of them wore dresses. Thanks to their confusing senses of fashion I wasn't sure who was a guy and who was a girl.

Though it didn't really matter. I was too tired to really do anything but stand there aimlessly and wonder what had happened over the past few hours. By then it was about two AM, somehow…

Just as I was falling asleep leaning against the wall, a young man (?) walked over to us. He was thin and rather feminine in face and body structure. In fact, if it weren't for the person's (apparent) lack of breast and men's clothes I would've thought he was a girl!

"It's a good thing you showed up when ya did," he said. "Vicky performed almost all night. From seven in the evening to – don't know how she does it!"

Papa laughed. "She's quite the performer. But did she agree to see me?"

"Yeah. Should I show you to her dressing room?"

Papa nodded.

Then, we followed the young man to the backstage area. There were a variety of people standing around. I even caught a bit of a conversation between to stagehands.

"- though at least she's not as bad as Lady Lucie," one stagehand was saying.

"Agreed. _That_ old queen was too much for me. I was glad when they fired _her_ ," the other replied.  
I smiled strangely as we followed the young man. This place was like a whole new world! Slang I didn't understand… strangely dressed people…

What surprised me the most, though, was the person called 'Vicky'...

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 **A/N: Th** **e reason she had a random sister named 'Nell' is only partially a reference to 'Little Nell' Campbell. It's more of a shout-out to _The Old Curiosity Shop_ , which involves a girl named 'Little Nell' Trent dying of a horrid Victorian Novel Sickness. That's also why Columbia's last name is always 'Trent' in my stories.**

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_**

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 **A/N: It's so exciting that people already reviewed Chapter 1! Hopefully _this_ chapter lives up to their expectations (and any other reader's).**

 **Also, I'd like to point out that Columbia/Laura's father is based on Edward Davis Wood Jr. (infamous director of B-pictures). That's the guy who wore women's underclothes while fighting in the second war and later went around hollywood dressed as 'Shirley'.** **The other characters aren't based on anyone real or fictional. Hopefully nobody's offended by all the crossdressing and stuff. I'm also sorry if this isn't truly historically accurate...**

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Despite the pronouns used _and_ the feminine name, 'Vicky' was not female.

Vicky was a man my father's age. Though he still wore his wig, seeing his face up close meant I could tell that he was a he. Yet he wore a dress…

I was confused by this _and_ unsure what to think. Or say.

Thankfully, I wasn't the one doing the talking. That was Papa's job.

He cleared his throat, since Vicky hadn't noticed him at that point. That odd man was too busy removing his stage makeup.

When he finally noticed us standing there he dropped the makeup remover and rushed over to where we stood (by the door). He first kissed Papa on the cheek and then kissed me on the cheek. Though the lipstick left an awful mark, I thought it rude to wipe it off.

"Hello Shirley, darling!" Vicky trilled.

That confused me even more. Who was 'Shirley'?

"Hello, Vicky," Papa replied solemnly.

Ah. _That's_ who 'Shirley' was.

My father's actual name is Davis E. Trent. Though I realized that he probably didn't go by that name while dressed as a woman. Especially because Davis E. Trent is well-known police officer in that area…

"Is this about the tip-off? They aren't supposed to arrive until about three-thirty. So I haven't yet told-"

Suddenly, Papa looked very worried. "What time is it?"

"Um, almost half-past three," said the young man who'd shown us to the dressing room, looking at his watch.

" _Shit_."

"That wasn't a very ladylike word, Shirley!" Vicky scolded.

Then, I giggled. Hearing my father addressed as 'Shirley', like everything else that happened that evening, was strangely funny. Nobody else seemed to understand what was funny. My father was clearly panicking.

"The police are going to be here any minute. Either go warn-"

Then we heard it. Shouting. Breaking of glass. The police were there right then, apparently.

"Oh dear," the young man muttered.

Vicky turned to him. "Oliver! We need to get out of here now. My clients will never forgive me for this… let's hurry!"

"Yes, ma'am," Oliver replied solemnly.

Then, we all followed him to through the backstage. The police hadn't gotten to that area yet. Soon enough we quietly exited through a door and got in the car. Momentarily, I was afraid that the policemen might notice us drive away. Oliver managed to drive through a couple of smaller side-streets that weren't really . Though. We soon left the town behind.

"Why can't you reason with them or something?" I asked Papa, once we'd been driving for a while.

"Who?"

"The police. You _do_ work for them."

"I _did_ work for them - today I resigned. Though it might be hard for you to understand, I was living a double life. By day I was a perfectly normal man who worked as a police. By night I was my real self: a heterosexual crossdresser and proud of it! Now that I've left that first life behind, I can be who I really am all the time."

"This was planned, then," I replied. It wasn't a question.

Papa took a deep breath. "Yes. Yesterday I found out that they – the police – knew about Vicky's cabaret and planned to raid it. Then, earlier this evening, I warned her about the upcoming raid. That meant she owed me a favor of some kind – presumably help finding a place to live. After she agreed to that I went home.

"I already knew how your mother would react to all of this. So I decided to tell her one night what working late' really meant. As predicted, she was furious. That meant she wouldn't follow me after. They I went back to the cabaret that Vicky owns to make sure she'd go along with everything. If she'd made everyone evacuate on time, the police would've thought it was a mistake and left. Of course, that didn't happen."

We all sat there in silence for a moment. Oliver kept driving into the darkness of the countryside. Unable to help myself, I stared at my father's peculiar clothes. He wore one of Ma's everyday dresses. After a moment I realized that, if I hadn't known who he was, I would've mistaken him for an actual woman.

"Can I still call you Papa? Even when you're dressed as Shirley?" I asked nervously, after a while.

"Of course," he replied kindly.

"Speaking of which, you can call me Auntie Vicky. " Vicky added. "And Oliver you can call… Oliver."

"Indeed," Oliver agreed.

I wanted to ask more questions, but I was too tired to say much. Quite quickly, Vicky noticed this. He smiled a motherly smile at me.

"You can sleep now, dear. I think you need it after all that's happened. We'll wake you up when we next stop."

It felt sort of odd… being in a car in the middle of the night with my father's 'real self', a man dressed in over-the-top female formal attire, and a very solemn young man who apparently worked for the latter. I probably should've panicked. Yet, somehow, I felt safer than I'd ever felt.

So I allowed myself to fall asleep.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own _T_ _he Rocky Horror Picture Show_**

 **A/N: Thanks for reviewing chapter 2, Guest!**

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By the time I woke up we were already in the city...

It was already the next afternoon. About 3 or so, to be more exact. We seemed to be in a busy part of the town with lots of people shopping or chatting cheerfully on street corners. Oliver soon parked the car outside a nearby hotel. We went inside, Vicky spoke to a tired looking man at the front desk, and soon enough

"You need something to wear that's less messy," Oliver said once he'd carried all our bags upstairs.

"I've got something that'll fit you," Dad said.

Though it was weird to borrow a dress from my _father_ , I didn't say so. I just put it on. The dress happened to be made of pink-and-white polka dotted cotton, with a flared skirt. Once I'd donned that, a crinoline, and a pair of white stockings I looked perfectly respectable. Despite my protests, Vicky made me where a bit of makeup and carefully styled my hair. Apparently I had to look especially nice now that I was in the city.

"Why don't you go look around for a little while?" Dad suggested, when he realized I was sort of getting in the way.

So that's what I did (after he handed me some money). Since I was thirsty I first walked into a bar of some kind a few doors down from the hotel. It looked a lot less fancy than a lot of other places nearby. That meant it was less expensive I thought.

It wasn't very well lit. Near the door was a woman dressed in clothes that looked somewhat like what a young man might wear.

When I walked by, she muttered: " _another_ lipstick."

After a bit of wandering through this place I saw a couple kiss – a girl dressed very girlishly and a girl dressed almost just like a boy – then leave a few minutes apart. That was odd… yet somehow right. It wasn't weird or bad or _anything_. Just normal. They I began to notice more and more couples like that. It looked like some sort of place people usually went to on dates.

Soon enough I ordered a soda, paid the ten cents, and then sat down at a nearby table.

At a nearby table – the one closest to me – two woman in their 30s or so were sitting very close to each other. At the end of the same table sat a very cheerful young woman dressed in the sort of clothes James Dean or Marlon Brando might wear. You know… a leather jacket, a loose t-shirt (that didn't properly disguise her bust), jeans, and heavy motorcycle boots. Despite being alone, the girl still looked quite cheerful.

"Hello!" she said to me, after a moment. "My name's Terry. What's yours?"

"Laura," I replied.

"Cute! You know, I've never been here before. It's all very interesting I think," she said, still quite happily.

"Neither have I. It's really quite odd."

"Why do you say that?" the girl asked.

I shrugged. "All different reasons. For one thing, there are only women here. And they're also dressed strangely."

Then, Terry's eyes widened in surprise. "You don't know where you are, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is a place for, um, female homosexuals to meet each other. If you aren't that sort… well, I think you'd better leave. You've gotten lost it seems," Terry explained nervously.

" _Oh._ "

We sat there in silence for a while. Then she finally spoke again.

"It's dangerous here. There are often police raids, which are especially dangerous for butch girls like me. That's because we're less feminine and people don't like that." At this point her tone had become somewhat bitter. "Though it's not like the lipsticks are any better off in the opinion of your average copper. No, they still don't make good housewives. That's all people seem to care about."

I was thoroughly confused by much of what Terry said. Then I remembered the previous evening, what we'd escaped from. So at least I sort of knew what she probably meant by 'raids'.

"My Papa was a policeman but he quit because he didn't like the raids he had to do, I think. He wears dresses in his spare time."

"Is that so? Well, at least that sort of explains why you're here in this part of town. And what you said about your father probably means I can trust you…"

"You can," I replied.

"Lovely. Anyway, I can't believe they let you in so easily. I suppose it's because you look very lipstick dressed the way you are," Terry said conversationally.

"What's 'lipstick' mean?" I asked, confused.

"Ah! You don't know anything, do you? Well it's not like you've got a reason to. Lipstick is when you're dressed up very girly. Some people call that femme. Now, other gals – like me – dress very boyishly. That's called butch. It's a bit more dangerous to dress up butch but I find it much more comfortable. Being a rebel like James Dean is more fun than dressing, if you ask me. More practical – if nobody who's against it catches you. That's the real trick. This part of town is very into this little subculture of ours so we're mostly safe.

"Anyway, a butch and a lipstick can date. It's not exactly right for a lipstick to date another lipstick and I couldn't date a fellow butch. Don't ask why, that's just how things are."

"That means we could date," I said, quickly adding: "Not that such a thing could happen! I mean, there's nothing _wrong_ with-"

Terry laughed. "Aren't you cute? Very polite, very mainstream. When did you find out about your father's little habit?"

"Yesterday evening."

"Ah! That explains it. You aren't yet used to us. So what are you doing here, in this part of the city, then?"

"After the police raided a place Papa was at we left with his friend Vicky and his driver Oliver," I explained.

It was at that moment that somebody grabbed me by the collar and dragged me out of the building. For some reason Terry followed us.

The person who'd grabbed me turned out to be Oliver.

"What're you doing here?" I asked.

"We're supposed to be going to get dinner now," Oliver said coldly. "And what are _you_ doing here?"

"I don't know, but I'm hungry. What's for dinner?"

Oliver rolled his eyes.

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